Best Mistake ︱Pedri González

78

Luciana's POV

 I rolled over in bed, realizing today was the 200m semifinals. Even though my race wasn't until later that night, I was already feeling the nervous energy buzzing in my chest. My coach, Juan, was back in Barcelona, but I wasn't completely without guidance. Gavi, Jude, and Camavinga had all offered to "coach" me for the day—if you could call it that.

I met them down in the hotel lobby, and from the minute I walked in, they were already cracking jokes.

"Alright, Luci," Gavi said, slinging his arm over my shoulder. "Forget Juan. We got you today."

Camavinga nodded seriously, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, we're your coaches now. You can call me Coach Camavinga from now on."

Jude crossed his arms and tried to look stern but failed miserably, bursting into laughter. "Just listen to us and you'll win the finals today, easy."

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head. "You guys are ridiculous."

Mikky was sitting on one of the lobby chairs, watching us with an amused smile. Frenkie was next to her, holding little Miles in his lap. When Mikky overheard their "coaching" offers, she broke out laughing, practically crying from how absurd it all sounded.

"Good luck with that," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Luciana, I think you should stick to Juan's methods."

"I don't know," I said, glancing at the guys. "These three seem like experts. Remember I've got the 3 fastest players in Laliga coaching me."

Miles looked confused, tugging on Frenkie's sleeve. "What's funny? What are they doing?"

Frenkie just smiled at his son, giving him a little squeeze. "They're pretending to be coaches, but they don't know anything about running."

"Hey, I'm an expert!" Jude protested, trying to sound offended. "I ran track in school."

"Uh-huh," I teased, raising an eyebrow. "And how many championships did you win?"

He opened his mouth, but Gavi cut in. "Zero. Absolutely none."

Camavinga patted Jude on the back mockingly. "Better stick to football, mate."

"Whatever," Jude said, pretending to be offended as we all cracked up.

Once we finally managed to pull ourselves together, we headed outside for my warm-up. Jude, Gavi, and Camavinga stayed close, trying to act like real coaches, though they mostly just threw around playful insults and fake advice.

"Keep your knees up, Luci," Gavi said with a mock-serious tone, mimicking what he thought a coach would sound like. "Like you're running through mud."

"And don't forget to breathe," Jude added, then whispered to Camavinga, "She probably already knows that, right?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop smiling. It was impossible to feel nervous with these guys around. After about an hour, I was feeling loose and ready for later, and we decided to grab some light lunch before the race. We found a small café and ordered salads and smoothies.

As we sat at a table outside, the mood shifted slightly—less joking, more focus. I could tell they were all trying to keep the energy light, but deep down, I knew they were rooting for me.

"You feeling good about tonight?" Gavi asked, taking a sip of his smoothie.

"Yeah," I nodded, playing with my straw. "I mean, the 200m is my event. I'll just do my thing and see how it goes. No pressure."

Jude grinned at me. "That's the spirit. But don't overthink it, yeah?"

"Trust me, I won't," I said, though the nerves were definitely building in my stomach.